


No one will know who she was

by VanillaMostly



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Character Study, Growing Up, POV Minor Character, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 19:46:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1911525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanillaMostly/pseuds/VanillaMostly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The mayor's daughter, just who was she?</p>
            </blockquote>





	No one will know who she was

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own.  
> This one is pretty much spoiler-free. All set before THG. I wrote 3/4 of this a long time ago and finished it up today when I found it in my old stuff. As always, I'm just fascinated with those minor characters that you barely see. And with the ending Madge got in canon, she deserves to be fleshed out just a bit more.

Madge's first friend was the physician's daughter, a girl named Hanna. Hanna and Madge played dolls on the days the physician tended to Madge's mother. "How come your mommy is always sick?" asked Hanna. "She's not sick," said Madge. "She's getting better."

Years later she would wonder if she believed her own words even then.

 

Finally, the day arrived. Madge could barely contain her excitement. At last she could attend school like all the big kids. Hanna was in her class and Madge happily went to sit with her. However, the teacher told her no, that was not her assigned seat.

"Why?" Madge wanted to know.

The teacher had not understood her question.

"Why can't we sit where we want?"

"Because that's the rule," said the teacher.

And you had to obey the rule, even if it didn't make sense. Madge intuited this with the wisdom of a child. She wasn't sure if she liked school so much after that.

 

One day, Madge and Hanna were walking home from school. In front of them were a group of Seam children on their way home as well. Madge knew they were Seam because of their brown hair and their skin a shade darker than hers. The Seam kids were throwing around a ball and laughing. Some of the bigger boys ran along with the smaller kids on their shoulders.

"That looks fun," said Madge. "Can we join?"

Hanna turned on her instantly. "Don't be stupid! That's not fun. That's... _improper_."

This was a word Hanna liked to use a lot, Madge was starting to notice.

"Look at how dirty their clothes are. Look at their feet." Hanna shook her head and grabbed Madge's arm, yanking her in the other direction. "You don't want to play with people like them. Come on."

But it does look fun, thought Madge longingly.

 

Mrs. Bailey the housekeeper was possibly Madge's favorite person in the world. Well, next to her father and her mother, of course. Whenever she came home, Mrs. Bailey always prepared her cookies and listened with twinkly eyes as Madge recounted her day. Mrs. Bailey was a great listener and unlike other adults, she answered Madge's questions.

"Why doesn't Hanna like the Seam kids, Mrs. Bailey?"

"Because she's afraid of them."

"Why is she afraid? They're not scary."

"Then it doesn't matter, does it? You're not Hanna."

"No, I guess not." Madge looked at Mrs. Bailey's white-gray hair, tied into a bun. "What color was your hair when you were young?"

"It was brown. Not so pretty as yours."

"Brown? Then you're from the Seam too?"

"Yes, I was, until your father hired me when he became the mayor."

"You used to live in the Seam? Then why-"

Mrs. Bailey laughed. "Alright, my curious little Madge. Eat your cookies or else they'll go cold."

Madge loved Mrs. Bailey, and she knew Mrs. Bailey loved her.

Which was why it wasn't possible that Mrs. Bailey really _went_ the year she was eight. Mrs. Bailey wouldn't leave her, not without a goodbye.

"She's coming back, isn't she?" she asked her father, but he would only try to change the subject to silly things like candy or the weather. She tried to ask her mother, but her mother would just sigh and not answer, and when Madge kept asking, Madge's mother would clutch her head and start making a terrible, broken noise, and Madge's father would start yelling for the morphling and everyone would rush about... and it was all Madge's fault but no one would pay her any attention by then.

So she'd run to her room, missing Mrs. Bailey more than ever before.

But Mrs. Bailey never came back.

 

The year she was ten, she called Hanna a liar.

"That was mean. You know very well Emmy Brandock didn't steal your gold necklace. You don't have a gold necklace."

Hanna rolled her eyes. "She deserves it. It's payback for what she did to me yesterday."

"She didn't spill soup on your shirt on _purpose_. Anyway, you have plenty of shirts."

"Not one like that. My mom got it for me from the Capitol, and it's the newest design from Fab. He only made fifty of them."

"I'm gonna tell the teacher the truth."

"No you're _not_ , are you stupid?"

"You're stupid."

Hanna narrowed her eyes. "Don't talk to me ever again. We're not friends anymore."

"Good," said Madge, and she walked away.

 

She started regretting it though, when the next day at school she walked to the table where she sat with Hanna and their friends and they all acted like they didn't see Madge there. When Madge tried to speak, they turned to teach other and said, "Do you hear that?" "Nope, sounds like nothing."

What was more, Emmy Brandock was sitting in Madge's old seat. She wouldn't meet Madge's gaze. Not that it mattered. Madge wasn't Emmy Brandock, was she?

Madge ate her lunch alone that day.

 

Delly Cartwright smiled at Madge. "Come sit with us," she offered, gesturing towards her group of friends. Madge recognized the baker's son and the florist's daughter. They were also Madge's classmates and she knew they were nice. Just like Delly was nice. Or she was trying to be nice because she felt sorry for Madge.

This thought irked Madge, somehow, and her reply was perhaps sharper than she intended. "Thanks, Delly, but I'm okay."

Delly nodded, her smile slightly uncertain as she backed off and went away. Madge returned to her lunch. She was alone, but she really _was_ okay. In fact, she was finding that she preferred it this way.

 

The next winter, on a night when wind and sleet thundered against the windows, Madge awoke to a phone call.

They rarely got phone calls this late. Madge waited for her father to answer it and buried her head deeper into her pillow. Soon the phone did stop ringing. Madge sighed and closed her eyes.

Two minutes later, she was awoken again by the sound of the door creaking open down the hall. Then, footsteps.

Madge wrapped her blanket around her and crept to the stairs. She peered down to the foyer to see her father tugging on a coat.

"What happened?" she asked, stifling a yawn.

Madge's father looked up. Madge blinked, taken aback by the look on his face.

"Go back to sleep, Madge," he said, and his voice was so soft but so heavy. Madge normally would have objected - she hated it when adults wouldn't tell her anything - but that night she obeyed. She couldn't fall asleep, though, not for a few hours as she tossed and turned, uneasy and not knowing why.

 

That week proved to be one of the longest weeks Madge had known.

Twenty miners were dead from the accident. A gas leak, it was said. Madge's father had dark circles under his eyes for days and he barely left his study. Madge had to deliver his dinner to his desk, but before going to bed each night she'd peek into his study and find his plate untouched.

At the end of that week, Madge's father held the memorial ceremony in the Justice Building. It would have been held outside but snow was still falling thickly.

The hallway was cramped and sounds rebounded off the walls too well. Madge sat in the front row with her mother. All around her were people either crying or hollow-faced. Her mother was one of those hollow faces, but that might be because the morphling from that morning hadn't worn off yet.

After the choir sang a song about angels and peace while holding lit candlesticks, Madge's father stepped to the podium and gave his speech. It was about how brave the workers were and how they will never be forgotten. Madge noticed that her father did not mention the Capitol or Panem in his speech. He only said "for our district." Not that this made anyone forget the Capitol, because the huge flag displaying the emblem hung on the wall right behind Madge's father.

Madge stopped listening after a while. The sobbing of a woman sitting right behind her was too distracting. Part of her wanted to go home so she could quit feeling miserable, and the other part of Madge felt guilty for thinking it- which just made her feel even more miserable.

It was her mother's reaction that suddenly brought Madge out of her gloomy reverie.

She heard her mother make a sharp intake of breath about twenty minutes into the ceremony. Madge followed her mother's gaze, which seemed to be trained on the people standing by the podium. There were a lot more people standing now other than her father. Most of them were women, holding their children to them and wiping their eyes.

"In memory of Lonan Everdeen," Madge's father was saying as he held out something round and shiny in his hand, dangling from a royal blue ribbon. A medal. Several of the children were wearing one, Madge saw.

Three people shuffled forward, parting from the crowd. A hollow-faced woman, thin and frail in her threadbare shawl, and her two daughters. One was a smaller replica of herself: delicate and blond and blue-eyed (strange, Madge realized belatedly). The other daughter looked the exact opposite: darker like the Seam and not delicate, though you couldn't call her strong either because of her scrawny frame. Madge recognized this girl. She was in her year. She sort of stood out because she was the only other person who sat alone for lunch.

"Thank you," the tall girl said tonelessly, accepting the medal. Unlike her sister, she wasn't crying, but her face wasn't hollow either. It was _fierce_ , Madge thought.

"Best of luck, Miss Everdeen," her father said.

Besides Madge, her mother reached up a hand and covered her mouth, like she was going to be sick.

The tall girl nodded and stepped back, holding her sister's hand in one hand and grasping her mother's elbow with the other. She looked a lot older than eleven years old at that moment. And she made Madge feel a lot more childish in comparison.

 

When Madge went home that night, she asked her mother if she knew the Everdeens. But her mother got That Look that reminded Madge of the night Mrs. Bailey died. "Never mind," Madge said, and watched her mother retire to the bedroom, moving slowly as if it ached her body to walk.

Her father, however, surprised Madge by gently patting her shoulder.

"That lady was once her friend," he told Madge.

Madge remembered the blond hair and blue eyes, how out of place that had looked next to the brown heads and gray eyes. "Then the lady moved to the Seam. Is that why they're not friends anymore?" Madge thought about herself and Hanna. Friendship could break over anything.

But Madge's father shook his head, a sad smile on his lips. "Not quite." He wouldn't say more.

 

The next time Madge saw the tall girl again was the day after school reopened. It was at lunchtime and Everdeen sat at her usual table, looking much the same as ever. Life moved on, Madge supposed. For a moment she paused on her way to her own usual table on the other side of the room. For a moment she thought, rather absurdly, about sitting with Everdeen.

It _was_ absurd because really, what would she say? I'm sorry your dad was obliterated into pieces while technically working for _my_ dad? I heard my mother and your mother were friends so we should be friends?

The last one was especially stupid. Madge didn't even want friends.

She chewed her lip for a brief second, then turned away. Yes, what happened to Everdeen was sad, and yes, Madge was curious about the connection between their mothers, but at the end of the day Everdeen was just a stranger whose first name Madge didn't even know. Her life was none of Madge's business.

 

Still, occasionally, Madge saw things and she tried not to care, but did. Like when she noticed the Everdeen girl stopped showing up for lunch; her table got taken over eventually by a group of rowdy Seam boys. Or when Madge glimpsed Everdeen in the hallway one day, her fierce expression unchanged but everything else shockingly different. Madge couldn't believe someone could lose that much weight in only two months.

It was almost as if Everdeen wasn't eat-

Oh.

Madge told herself it wasn't any of her business, but, well...

She switched her direction and walked faster, keeping an eye on the back of Everdeen's swishing braid.

 

Following Everdeen was hard. The girl walked at a brisk pace and she had a way of fluidly side-stepping people and slipping through swinging doors. Madge probably would never have caught up if Everdeen hadn't finally slowed to a stop outside the primary school section.

Madge tapped her on the shoulder, and Everdeen turned. Madge couldn't blame her for looking surprised.

"Um, you see, I..." Madge paused. It just occurred to her that she didn't even know what she planned to say to Everdeen.

"What?" Now Everdeen wasn't looking surprised; she looked impatient and annoyed.

Madge's mind took that time to stop functioning altogether, so her mouth moved on its own. "Are you doing alright? Do you need help?"

"Help," repeated Everdeen.

"I'm Madge Undersee," said Madge, figuring it might have been better to introduce herself first, "and, um, my father told me-"

Madge realized her error even before Everdeen shot her a look of pure venom.

"I don't need help _,_ " Everdeen snapped, taking a huge step back, as if she couldn't stand breathing the same air as Madge any longer. "Got that? Not from you or the mayor. Tell your dad that we're _fine_. You don't know anything."

"I didn't..." Madge trailed off; the doors had opened right then and the younger kids streamed out. Everdeen was all too glad to put more distance between herself and Madge. When her little sister appeared and glanced at Madge, Everdeen pulled her away faster than... well, the time it took Madge's face to burn hot as coals.

 

"Madge? Madge."

Madge started. "Yes?"

Her father was peering at her over his glasses. "Are you not feeling well? You haven't touched your food."

Madge's mother was on her morphling today, so it was just father and daughter at dinner. Madge should have known she'd get caught sooner or later. She pierced a green pea with her fork. No, it was unbearable to even look at it. "What if I don't eat it? Can I give it someone else?"

Her father paused in cutting his chicken. "Who?"

"No one in particular," said Madge, as casually as possible. "Just, you know... someone really hungry. I'm not that hungry."

"Oh," said her father. He sighed. "Madge..."

"I don't mean _literally_ , of course. I mean hypothetically. It seems fair, right, to share, if I have too much stuff and someone else has too little stuff?" She was rambling now.

Her father seemed to be at loss for words for a moment. "Madge, that's very sweet of you to think that way, but - you see, things aren't so simple like that."

"Why not?" She felt like a six-year-old again, asking her teacher, _Why_? for something that seemed to be obvious to everyone else except her.

"You... you just can't make everyone happy. Think about it. Give one person more food, and sooner or later word will spread and everyone will want food. What do you do then when you don't have enough?"

"You can ask the other people with more food to give theirs, too."

"And if they don't want to? Are you going to force them?"

Madge hesitated. "I could convince them. I'll think of something."

Her father smiled. "You'd make a great mayor of District 12 one day. A much better one than me." He said the last part quietly, but Madge heard.

She stared at her father, thinking back on the week of the mining accident, seeing him with that haunted expression, the darks circles under his eyes. Even right now, the wrinkles around his brows remained. "You're a great mayor, Dad."

"Thank you, honey," he said. The look he was giving Madge was making her embarrassed. She was almost glad when the cook interrupted by bringing the dessert.

Dessert... Did Everdeen and her little sister even know what cake tasted like? _You don't know anything_. Madge remembered Delly Cartwright from a year ago, all friendly and inviting, yet Madge had thought the same thing - _you don't know anything_ \- when Delly had tried to help, in her own way. Now Madge was Delly. It wasn't her fault, just like it wasn't Delly's... but how could it be Everdeen's fault either?

If Mrs. Bailey were here, what would she say? Madge could picture the old woman's kind face, her gentle, slightly hoarse voice. _Just do the right thing, Madge._ That was the sort of thing she'd say.

Now Madge wanted to ask, _but how do I know what is the right thing?_ She wished Mrs. Bailey could answer, if she was listening from wherever she was.

 

The next day she blocked Everdeen on her way to the primary school.

Everdeen said nothing, just narrowed her eyes.

"I didn't mean to offend you or anything," blurted Madge. "I just wanted to talk to you because I remember you from the medal ceremony and my mom knew your mom - I think - and anyway, you can't keep going on like this or you'll starve to death and I know you're worried about your sister." She pushed a bag of coins into Everdeen's hand. "That's not charity money. You can think of it as a loan. No interest."

Now Everdeen just looked confused instead of angry. True, what would she know about loans and interest?

"Take the money and buy you and your sister some food. One day you can pay me back."

With that she turned and ran, and in relief she saw that Everdeen had not followed.

 

"Here."

Madge inwardly groaned. Looking up, she scowled at the intruder to her table. "I _told_ you, that's your loan."

"I'm not taking your money, _loan_ or no loan."

The Everdeen girl crossed her arms, unyielding. She was much better at the threatening glare than Madge was.

At last Madge sighed, taking the bag of coins back as slowly as possible while thinking fast. Everdeen was showing signs of booking it any second now. "You know, I went through a lot of trouble getting that to you. Went through my dad's wallet and everything."

"So?" Everdeen retorted, but she was avoiding Madge's eyes. _Aha._

"You owe me."

"I..." She glared at Madge again, then huffed. "Fine, what do you want me to do?"

"You can split this nasty sandwich with me." Madge picked up half of her lunch and held it up.

The two of them stared each other down. This time, Madge tried her hardest to stand her ground.

"You're weird, you know that?"

Everdeen's smile was so brief Madge almost missed it, but the most important thing was that she sat down and took the sandwich.

 

From then on, on the rare days Everdeen did appear for lunch, she sat with Madge. It went unsaid. Madge had to fight tooth and nail to get her to take half a sandwich, and even then Everdeen only nibbled a quarter of it before stowing it in her pocket. Madge knew she was saving the rest for her sister. It was hopeless trying to push more than half a sandwich on Everdeen, though. Madge had never met someone so difficult.

At one point Everdeen stopped being "Everdeen," and started being "Katniss."

At one point they started to pair up for gym class.

Their acquaintance - or whatever you called it - was limited within school grounds, though. Madge never tried to invite Katniss over to her house and certainly Katniss never showed indications of vice versa.

Which was fine, really. Remembering the way Katniss had shackled up like a porcupine when Madge had first tried to approach her, Madge thought their present stage was a feat by itself. She liked it, anyway. Katniss as a silent lunch companion was already more enjoyable company than Hanna ever was.

 

Gradually, Katniss was looking better, and started to show up for lunch consistently. Madge was too happy about the change to care for the reasons, though of course she was curious, but to her surprise Katniss explained without Madge needing to ask.

In a low voice, and looking more pleased with herself than Madge had ever seen, Katniss described her new weekly "job."

Madge just stared. She imagined her eyes were popping out of their sockets; Katniss actually looked amused.

"Is- is that safe?"

"If I'm careful, yeah," said Katniss with a shrug.

Madge absorbed this. Part of her was shocked as ever, but the other part of her was strangely thrilled, even though the illegal hunting activity had nothing to do with her. More than anything, she was amazed that Katniss even trusted her enough to tell her this.

Before lunch ended, Katniss spoke again. "You want me to bring you anything?"

It took Madge a moment to realize what Katniss was asking. Her first thought was to say no, her family didn't lack much, better to save the game for those who needed it... but with Katniss looking at her expectantly, Madge suddenly saw that this wasn't about business. This was about their friendship.

Because Madge was pretty sure, now, that they were friends.

"Oh, um... My dad and I like strawberries."

Katniss smiled, fleeting as it was. "Done."

 

So every Saturday, Madge could expect a knock on her back door, and open it to find Katniss delivering strawberries. At first Madge worried that her father wouldn't approve, but he took one look at the strawberries and laughed. "Her father used to do the same thing," he said quietly, looking a little sad at remembering.

Madge hugged him to cheer him up. He smiled and ruffled her hair. "You made a new friend?"

"Why do you sound so surprised?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.

He just laughed again. "I'm glad, Madgie."

 

One day she opened the door up to see that Katniss wasn't alone.

"Gale, this is Madge. Madge, Gale."

Gale was another Seam kid, though Madge had a hard time thinking of him as a _kid_. He was so tall she had to arch her neck to look at him, and even though he was skinny like all Seam boys were, he didn't look weak.

He also didn't look friendly, either. "Nice to meet you," said Madge, reaching a hand out for a shake.

He made a noise akin to a grunt and crushed her hand for half a second. The whole time he was looking at the treetops.

Madge gave Katniss the money and they talked for a little bit, all while the dark, sullen guy stood behind Katniss like he was her bodyguard. When Madge waved goodbye, only Katniss waved back. Gale was already halfway down the driveway, like he couldn't get out of there fast enough.

 _What's_ his _problem?_

 

Unfortunately that was not the last time she had to put up with stupid Gale. Katniss brought him along every weekend. Apparently, he was her new hunting partner.

"Do you really need him?" asked Madge during lunch.

Katniss did not seem to pick up on the barb behind Madge's words. She started off about how Gale was so _good_ at this, so _experienced_ at that, blah blah...

Madge sighed, poking at her potatoes. She resigned herself to a lifetime of Gale.

 

On her twelfth birthday, she received a mockingjay pin and a story about Maysilee Donner.

Her mother told half of it, but she got stuck and started having one of her episodes, and had to be given morphling in her room. Madge's dad finished the other half of it.

"I wanted to wait till you were older," he said, afterwards. "But your mother..."

"I'm old enough."

Madge was not sure if she was, but she wanted to be brave, like her aunt. She looked down at the mockingjay pin. At the school library they had a collection of all the videos of the Hunger Games. It wouldn't be hard, to find the Fiftieth Quell.

But she decided to wait till she was ready for that.

 

The first reaping was a rite of passage here in the districts, and now she could finally understand all the things the older kids said. Some of it turned out to be exaggerated, some of it turned out to be perfectly true. Some of it turned out to be not even close to just how awful the experience was.

The whole process wasn't very long, but it felt like eternity, standing out there in the sun. Two names, then done. After that it was all a blur. Madge barely registered following the crowd out, parents all around, hugging their children, the lucky ones who made it.

Her own father had to go back to the Justice Building, but he found Madge in time for a death-gripping squeeze. Her mother just looked numb and so tired, Madge had to hold her elbow the whole way home. When they got home her mother took the morphling and went straight to bed.

The day felt surreal. Madge had seen reapings before, as part of the audience, but it was completely different actually being in it. Now that the nerve-wracking fear was over she was left feeling... not sure what she was feeling. She curled up on the couch, all energy drawn out.

On the television screen, they were showing District 12's tributes filing onto the train. The girl was sobbing, and the boy looked like a dead man walking.

_Because he is._

Madge squeezed her eyes shut, covering her ears. _That could have been me, that could have been me,_ the mantra played in her head.

And she'd only had one slip in there.

 

That was why Gale hated her. She would hate herself, too. She not only had more food to eat, warm clothes to wear, but she had the advantage of less slips in the bowl, come every reaping. Sure, merchant kids got reaped too, but the ratio to Seam kids was pretty skewed.

She'd always had brief glimpses into the unfairness of the world: it started with her mother's ever-present illness. The teacher at school, telling her _no_ , _you have to follow the rules_. Hanna not letting Madge play with the Seam kids. People like Mrs. Bailey and Mr. Everdeen dying, never doing anything wrong. Children starving, or getting reaped. Dead twin sisters, dead aunts.

That was life.

_Why?_

Madge had no answer. She began to think there never would be.

Growing up was no fun, no fun at all.

 


End file.
